Brother, Dear Brother
by gomababe
Summary: Edit: A series of drabbles about the few times that England actually gets one up over on his oldest brother. Raed for language.
1. After Culloden

A/N: Inspired by another fic by a friend of mines. What words are exchanged when a once proud nation finally gives in to his brother?

...

Scotland glared at the ground just in front of him, his breathing coming in sharp, heavy gasps as he tried to stand again. He grit his teeth as his shoulder twitched and he fell to the ground,

"God damnit." He growled; his frustration made abundantly clear to those that would care to notice him. This was not what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to walk away from this tall and proud, once again showing that little ingrate that dared to call himself a kingdom, an empire that he would not be subjugated and forced to live by the rules of others. That dream now lay in tattered ruins amongst the bodies of the Jacobite rebels, slaughtered by the combined forces of the English army and the lowland Scots who had joined them. Scotland did not know whether to feel betrayed by them or not. After all, it was not like they had agreed to the rebellion in the first place and they were living fairly comfortable lives under rule from Westminster. He was shaken from his thoughts by a callous voice coming from above him,

"Oh how the mighty have fallen once again." England sneered as he stood above his older brother. Scotland growled in irritation,

"Whit the hell d'ye want?" he asked simply, knowing exactly the reason his so called 'brother' had come along. England leered at him,

"I've come to have a little chat." He replied easily, "About exactly what you thought you were going to accomplish by this insanely childish behaviour." Scotland slowly raised his head to look at his brother,

"Ye ken just fine whit I wanted to accomplish." He spat, glaring daggers at the grass green eyes that were silently mocking him. England snorted,

"May I remind you Scotland, that I am the one in charge around here?" he said, his voice low, "I will no longer be spoken to as though I am below you." Scotland choked back a bitter laugh,

"Ye may be in charge, but ye hae no right tae treat ma people as though they're below _you_." Scotland struggled to his feet, meeting England's gaze, "Ye didnae win ma land o'er some silly wee conflict so ye hae nae right tae tell me whit I should and shouldnae be daein'." England gazed at his musket, an unconcerned look on his face,

"You're quite right about the invasion part, but I didn't have to in the end did I?" he looked back at his brother with a triumphant look, "The last parliament you will _ever_ have gave it away for free. Therefore, as you no doubt need reminding, you _are_ below me." Scotland scowled at him,

"If the Union was voluntary then that makes us equals!" he retorted, "I refuse to continue to be treated like some dog!" his rant was cleanly cut off as England swiftly kicked his feet out from under him. Scotland hissed in agony as he landed on his back, which was already raw from the battle the two of them had just fought. England stepped on his chest with a boot and levelled the end of his musket at him,

"Dear me," he tutted, "It looks as though the barbarian still needs to be taught some manners." He sighed, "I own you, just like I own Wales and Ireland and you, my dear brother, seem to keep forgetting your place." He said, his voice low. Scotland glared up at his brother, still refusing to back down even now,

"You will _never_ own me." He growled, "Not now, nor ever. My people will never stand to be completely taken over by English rule and law. Even if it takes another thousand years or more I will be a free nation again." England chuckled darkly,

"You expect me to believe that? You are nothing more than a broken shade of what you were because of your own stupidity. I don't even think you count as a country any more, given that all the powers that control you are stationed at Westminster. I, on the other hand, am an empire that continues to grow day by day. And when I finally beat that bloody frog into submission again I will own the entire North American continent." Scotland managed to send England a sarcastic smirk,

"Ye cannae control the colonies forever Arthur." He said, "One o' these days they'll know what freedom is, an' when they do..." he left his statement hanging. England scowled at the nation before him and kicked him in the ribs,

"Alfred will never leave me!" he yelled, "You know nothing of the bond we share! You never have!" Scotland coughed harshly, the kick having winded him,

"You just keep tellin' yersel' that laddie. One o' these days ye'll learn the hard way that empires never last forever." He glared up at the empire again, "An' when it a' fa's into tiny wee pieces, I'm gonnae be there tae dance on yer fuckin' grave." He spat, nearly blacking out as England hit him with the blunt end of his musket. He barely heard the last thing that his brother said as he walked off,

"We'll see who dies first, Angus. And mark my words, it will not be me."


	2. When America Left

A/N: This drabble takes place just after America wins his independence in October 1781. England really is not in the best of moods at this point in his history.

...

Scotland stood outside the door to England's room with Canada, listening to the quiet sobbing of his brother. Canada looked up at his uncle,

"What are we going to do?" he asked quietly, "England adored America." Scotland frowned, it was true that England always held America closer to his heart than the other colonies, but hadn't Scotland warned him this was likely to happen? The red haired nation sighed heavily,

"Well, we cannae let him wallow in his ain misery forever." He looked up at the door again, "I'm goin' tae hae a talk wi' him." He said firmly. Canada gripped his arms tightly, having wrapped them around himself when he had arrived back in England's house,

"Is that a good idea right now?" he asked, "Maybe we should wait until he's calmed down." Scotland smiled and ruffled the colony's hair,

"Dinnae worry aboot me wee ane," he chuckled, "I'll be a'right if that's whit's got ye worried." He frowned again, "Like a said, England cannae wallow in misery if he's got an empire tae run." Canada nodded slowly,

"I guess not." He muttered, "Good luck uncle." He said as the older nation quietly knocked on the door and let himself in. Scotland sent the colony a small smile before closing the door behind him.

Scotland's expression softened slightly as he watched his youngest brother watch the rain outside the window. He coughed lightly to get the other's attention. England whirled around only to see his oldest brother standing next to the door. He quickly wiped his eyes, holding back a sniffle,

"Didn't anyone teach you to knock?" he asked, trying to glare at Scotland, but failing quite badly. Scotland gave a soft snort of indignation,

"I did, but ye obviously didnae hear me." He retorted, his voice quiet. The two brothers stared at each other in awkward silence, neither of them sure what to say to the other. Finally England sighed,

"If you're here to mock me over the fact that I've lost one of my most valuable colonies then you can forget it." He muttered. Scotland raised an eyebrow at that,

"Defensive aren't we?" he asked, "That wisnae whit I came in here fer; you're doing that just fine by yersel'." Now England did glare at his brother,

"Then what do you want Angus?" he asked simply. Scotland walked over to the window and leaned on the windowsill, looking out at the rain still pouring down outside,

"I came in here tae remind ye that ye've still got an empire tae run." He turned to his brother again, "Ye cannae sit here and wallow in yer ain misery just because ye lost one o' them." England's glare deepened into a scowl as his brother continued to talk, "I warned ye afore that Freedom is a temptin' thing..." he didn't get much further as England finally saw red and lashed out, slapping him sharply across the cheek. Scotland blinked, slightly dazed by the blow. His brother certainly had a strong arm on him these days, England quickly grabbed his brother's hair and pulled his face to his,

"And whose fault is it that he was tempted away in the first place, hmm? I don't recall ever telling America fanciful stories about freedom and independence." He growled. Scotland glared at his brother,

"Well it wisnae me either lad." He retorted, "America hated me just as much as you did, probably mair if his actions were anythin' tae go by half the time." He staggered back as England pushed him away in disgust,

"Well then, why, pray tell, did America even consider the idea?" he asked silkily, "He was well represented and I obviously favoured him above the others, so why did he want to leave if you didn't plant any silly ideas into his head?" Scotland scoffed,

"Because you decided ye needed to clamp doon on him. Just like ye clamped doon on the rest o' us when it became clear we werenae happy." He retorted, "America's rebellion against ye's been a lang time comin' England. I told ye all this afore." Scotland didn't even realise he'd hit the floor until England leaned over him, eyes blazing,

"I seem to recall you telling me something of the sort." He said quietly, "But you obviously need reminding about your place. I do not need nor want your lectures concerning what happened between American and myself, and I most certainly do not need nor want your advice on how to handle my losses." Scotland glared up at his brother, his head swimming;, obviously his head had hit the floor harder than he thought,

"Ye can try clampin' doon on the rest o' them a' ye like Arthur," he growled, "It'll just make them mair likely tae leave, just like Alfred." He gasped as England got up and kicked him in the ribs,

"I will not allow it!" he shouted, "You are nothing without me and neither are they!" Scotland tried to get up, but was quickly pushed back down by his brother again, "All of you will learn your place, and you will learn to like it." He hissed, finally getting up, dusting himself off and storming out of the room. Canada flinched as his father figure swept straight past him, not even noticing him. The colony breathed a quiet sigh of relief before cautiously making his way into the room England had come out of,

"Uncle Scotland?" he called quietly, scanning the room for signs of the older country. He dropped his polar bear companion with a gasp as he noticed his uncle lying on the floor, "Uncle!" he cried as he ran over to the man, tears already spilling from his eyes. Scotland stirred painfully at the cry and looked over to little Canada. He gave the colony a rueful smile,

"Word o' advice lad, dinnae go pissin' England off." He winced as he tried to sit up, "Can ye go get yer Uncle Ireland fer me? I dinnae think I'll manage oot o' here by masel'." He asked. Canada nodded and quickly ran out of the room in search of the other Celtic nation. Scotland sighed as he watched his nephew go,

"Well, at least England's no depressed ony mair." He muttered to himself bitterly.


End file.
